


promises, promises

by decidingdolan



Series: your words (my songs) [6]
Category: Sing Street (2016)
Genre: Conor has answers. Sort of., Conversations, Eamon has questions., Introspection, M/M, Rabbits., Second Person, bedside talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidingdolan/pseuds/decidingdolan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you're with him, on his bed. and he's asking why you happened to choose him, and not her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promises, promises

 

_I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say._

_\--Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca_

 

* * *

 

You’re lounging on his bed, lights on and rabbits at the floor.

He reached for your hand, weaved his fingers in. A sort of warmth settled at the bottom of stomach, radiated. And you had the suspicion that this, this was what you’d been waiting for.

No sounds, no words. Eyes closed and hearing his breaths beside you. It’s okay. It’s right. It’s more than okay, maybe.

“You ever regret that it turns out to be me?” he asked, broke the silence, hand still holding onto you. You raised an eyebrow, tightened your grip on him.

Brushed a strand of his hair back with your free hand, eyes searching in his. What was he on again, rabbit boy. What was on his mind.

“Who, you?” you replied, by way of a question. Because he couldn’t be serious. Because there’s no doubt. This was your ending, and this was his. You were together, what else.

He coughed. Licked his lips. “Me, Eamon,” he’s glancing around the room, and your eyes followed, “Eamon and the Rabbits, and not Raphina.”

“Eamon and the Rabbits,” you let out a laugh, “You said that like it’s the name of a band.”

Could be.

A one man band with Charlotte and Elaine and Merlin. He’s a force, a rarity. Hard to understand, took a while to get through. But one that clicked. One you never had to question.

He just was.

“Maybe it is,” he was smiling, a bit, and your lips curled, “Maybe it’s the two of us and Charlotte and them lot.”

You leaned in, kissed him on the lips, and grinned at the blush blooming in his cheeks. “Maybe _we_ should run away to London together.”

What an idea. Right, what an idea.

You and him, inseparable. Music and lyrics, day and night. Maybe a rabbit here and there. The things you would do. The things you could do.

It’s all a dream, of course. Reality’s the storm blowing on your tiny boat of hope. There’s survival and sterling and practicalities to consider, and you were two guitars, sheet music, and a whole lot of one-sided optimism.

“So you’re taking me, not her.”

You squeezed his hand.

“What’s this obsession of yours with using ‘not’?”

He breathed, hand grazing your cheek. Like he was touching you for the first time.

“Dunno,” he shook his head, “Surprises me, ‘s all. Every time I think about it.”

“Me, surprises you, _that_ surprises me,” your lips caught his, again. Supple and saccharine. Maybe it was all in your head, the taste, the addiction. But he’s here, right here, and who were you to stop yourself. “Thought you’d know me well by now.”

“ _You_ thought,” a finger flicked at your nose, and you shut your eyes, “Not everything’s about you, Conor.”

“So it’s about you.”

You felt his lips on your neck then, slow, nipping. Open-mouthed kisses, and you were moaning. Tilted your head back to let him in.

“I wanted to know,” you heard his mutter. Your hand flew to his head, fingers playing with his strands. Your toes curled, and you were trying to reclaim air.

“Sure.”

(Like you could say much else at this point.)

“Boy starts band to impress girl. Boy writes songs. Falls for his lead guitarist. Boy kisses him. Girl's out of the picture.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“It. But it happened, Con. That's my point”

“It happened, Eams. Also my point. You can't choose who it is you end up with.” You let go of his hand. Pressed your lips to his collarbone, and straddled his form.

“With me, it just happened to be you.”

He’s looking up at you, tomato red.

“Unfortunate.”

Liar.

You slipped a hand under his sweater, a punishment. His head rolled back on the pillow, mouth wide. And how you wanted to stop him talking sense altogether.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the whole of Dublin, you fucker.”

He chuckled, fingers starting to unbutton your shirt. “I confess.” (One button. Two. Three down. Four…) “I might just love you a bit more than Charlotte. Just a bit.”

Eamon let you pull his sweater up over his head, and you’re staring. Staring at down at him. At the body before you.

He shrugged, an unspoken, _That’s all you get_ , eyes sheepish and lips upside down.

You ran a hand over, followed your fingers with lips. Dots. A path. Making your way down his chest. Getting acquainted with the taste of his skin.

His breaths, shallow and disconnected, drove you for more.

“Never change, Eams,” you kissed his chest, shrugging your own shirt off of you, “You’ll break my heart.”

He’s pressing up against you then, between the thighs. Hips collided. Friction. And you’re both gasping.

God.

Why haven’t you been doing _this_ earlier?

Why all that hidden feelings and sealed lips instead of this damned buzzing pleasure?

“Can’t promise you that,” he threw his arms around you, leaned in for your lips. His hand drifted south, at your back. _Further, further_ , you’re praying.

“Fine,” you breathed. His hand was cupping your ass, and that’s all you could probably humanly say. “Fine.”

You heard a click, and your pants fell onto the bed. Bare legs rubbing against his clothed ones. Unfair.

“I’ll take tonight,” you murmured. God forbid you should even need to talk now. Come on.

He smirked, kissed the base of your neck, and it’s possibly the sweetest sentence you’d ever heard him say.

“I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for stopping by, reading, and/or reviewing!
> 
> Your ever humble fanfic writer
> 
> x


End file.
